


More Than Just A Dream

by opalheart12



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: F/M, M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-02-13
Updated: 2018-06-13
Packaged: 2018-09-24 00:38:29
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 11
Words: 17,393
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9691982
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/opalheart12/pseuds/opalheart12
Summary: The war is past. Hermione lost her memory and is living in NYC, that is until two unexpected visitors show up and change the life she has carefully built around her. Will she finally get answers for the nightmares she's been having and find out who is responsible for her memory loss in the first place?





	1. Chapter 1

_She was running again, away from all the screams and bodies but it seemed the farther she ran, the more of these she encountered. She tripped and fell, her face tingling in dull pain as she turned over on her back. She tried to stand again but a boot was shoved into her throat. Her eyes traveled up the legs of her assailant and the rest of their body until they landed on the face._

_He had platinum blond hair and bright gray eyes. His expression was one of loathing and smugness. "Quite the compromising position you're in here." he said, his voice dripping with malice. "But, no matter. You shall not remember it either way." He held a stick in his right hand and was pointing it directly at her. His face softened for a moment and despite her gasping for air, she felt so confused._

" _I'm sorry." was all he said before a rush of noise filled her ears and a bright green light clouded her vision and everything went black._

* * *

 

She sat straight up in her bed, sweat drenching her entire body. Her breathing was heavy as she glanced over at her alarm clock and noticed the time was 6a.m. The first rays of morning were beginning to peak through her bedroom. She ran a hand through her wild hair and tried to steady her breathing. She'd been having the same nightmare and other similar ones for the past six months, ever since her first day working at Phoenix Unlimited in New York City. No one knew about her dreams, and she wanted to keep it that way.

After a few more moments of trying to compose herself, she finally rose from the bed and went into the bathroom to shower. She scrubbed hard at her skin as she always did when she showered after waking up from her nightmares. The sun was halfway up when she finished getting dressed for work. There was no time for breakfast and besides, she doubted her stomach could handle it after the dream she'd had.

The walk to her job was relatively short, it being that it was a five minute walk from her apartment to the Phoenix Unlimited tower. It was tall and made almost entirely of glass and steel, giving the impression that it was always shimmering. It made her smile slightly as she walked inside.

"Good morning, and welcome to Phoenix Unlimited. The current temperature outside is 60 degrees with a 20% chance of rain and a high of 85 degrees. Please enjoy your day." The automated system that was programmed to welcome and give a weather report was now set to go off every 30 minutes throughout the day.

Despite the early hour, there were many people in the lobby of Phoenix Unlimited getting into the many elevators to their designated floors. She stepped into a relatively empty one and pressed the button that would take her to the 37th floor where all the assistants for logistics management, marketing, and CEO were stationed. Her desk was all the way at the back of the somewhat crowded room that contained about ten desks.

"Good morning, Jean." A coworker whose name she never could place said to her as she walked over to the coffee machine.

"You're here early, Ms. Black." Someone else observed as she got settled in at her desk.

"Yeah, well, I just wanted to get a head start on all the paperwork and appointments so it doesn't get too bad later. I'm sure Mr. Bradley will be grateful. " Jean said with a smile. Her eyes wandered over to the small mirror she always kept beside her desk. She very quickly assessed her appearance.

Her hair was in a slightly haphazard ponytail and she wasn't wearing as much makeup as she usually wore today. There were still dark circles under her eyes and she felt like she hadn't slept a single hour the previous night. If the nightmares continued, she was sure she would never be able to sleep again.

* * *

 

"She's not here at the moment. She must have only just left." A man with black, messy hair and emerald eyes said as he walked around Jean's apartment.

"Bit plain, isn't it? Not like her." His companion, a taller man with fire red hair and hazel eyes replied as his eyes wandered around the scantily furnished apartment.

The walls were stark white and there were no decorations or pictures on them. All that could be seen in the living room was a sofa, television, and lamp. There was a small table off to the side closest to the kitchen. Her bedroom only contained her bed and a lamp and her medium walk-in closet didn't appear to have nearly as much as it should inside.

The tall man with black hair picked up a piece of mail he saw on the counter in the kitchen and read out loud the name on it. "Jean Black. Is that what she's calling herself?"

The other man shrugged and sat down on the sofa. "That's how they set her up here. Maybe they wanted to remember as little as possible. Memory charms aren't always permanent, depending on the intent of the person that cast it."

The black haired man looked at his friend, a slightly surprised look on his face. "True, but we still don't even know who cast the oblivion charm on her to begin with. There was so much going on."

Silence engulfed the apartment for the first time since the two men had entered Jean's apartment. They were both caught up in their own thoughts before either spoke again.

"Should we take action tonight?" The red haired man asked, his voice sounding cautious.

His companion shook his head. "I don't think we should. At least not now. We should see how she's living her life. We'll give her a week and have constant surveillance on her. She's gotten along this long without our help. She'll be fine."

"Harry, it's been nearly 9 months since she's been...herself. We're lucky St. Mungo's was able to rehab her enough in those 3 months to get her functioning this normally. I want my friend back."

"I know, Ron." Harry replied, his voice taking on a tone of sadness. "I know. But, trust me. We'll do it soon. If we do it now she could get overwhelmed and that...wouldn't do us any good."

Ron sighed in response and ran a hand through his hair, keeping his eyes closed. "What if she's happier? What if we just shouldn't even-"

"Ron, we won't know any of that until we tell her. She may seem happy right now, but I know she isn't. Memory or not, she probably has nightmares of the war and nothing to explain them. If she were...herself...I think she would want us to tell her." Harry said as he stared out of the window.

"Is there any way to get her memory back?"

His question was met with silence for a few moments before Harry was able to answer. "I don't know. You remember what happened with Lockhart. There's no telling, honestly. But telling her is...if we tell her, something might trigger, and that could either be good or bad."


	2. Chapter 2

"Mr. Bradley, your appointment with Mr. DiLaura from Barrington Incorporated has been canceled. His wife went into labor earlier this morning and he said he will be unavailable for the next week." Jean rattled off as she paced in front of Mr. Bradley's desk.

Mr. James Bradley was the CEO of Phoenix Unlimited and Jean had the privilege of being his assistant. Bradley was a lot nicer and easier to deal with than the other CEOs, CFOs, and COOs. He was a relatively young man whose face bore no appearance of running a large conglomerate like Phoenix. He had dark brown hair, light brown eyes, and always wore a black or blue suit. His light caramel skin seemed to bring out his eyes and gave the feeling of being watched like a hawk.

"Remind me to send flowers and a card. She wasn't due for another three weeks." he commented softly as he peered through the stack of mostly signed paperwork Jean brought for him to complete. She'd done as much as she'd been able to do in order to lessen Bradley's work load.

"Yes, of course, sir. Also, Mr. Addison from logistics has a request for transfer that needs to be signed and processed within the next week or so." Jean continued to rattle off the many things the CEO of Phoenix Unlimited needed to get around to and it felt like she was talking for more than an hour.

"Ms. Black?" Bradley interrupted softly, his eyes searching her face carefully.

Jean paused mid-sentence and glanced over at Mr. Bradley. "Yes, sir?"

He frowned at her before standing from his desk to walk in front of her. He stood still, examining her face more closely. "How long has it been since you've last slept?"

Jean felt her face fall and she quickly looked away. "Last night, sir."

There was no way she would tell her boss she hadn't had a decent night's sleep for as long as she could remember. The last six months had been filled with nightmares and plain old dreams with people that felt familiar to her but were strangers.

"Don't lie to me, Ms. Black. I know sleep deprivation when I see it."

Jean answered this with silence and began tugging on her bottom lip, praying to anything and everything that Bradley wouldn't fire her today. So what if she was sleep deprived? Coffee had done wonders to keep her awake at work and it wasn't even affecting how she did her work. She hadn't thought anyone, let alone Bradley, would have noticed. A feeling of annoyance and relief simultaneously filled her.

"I'm quite fine, sir." Jean replied steadily.

Bradley sighed and stepped back. "Jean, I'm sorry, but I believe it would be in your best interest if you took the rest of the week off. Its only Wednesday so you'll only miss two days. Come back on Monday feeling better, yeah?"

Jean was stunned. "But, sir, your appointments and-"

"I'll be fine, Jean. I can make it for two days without you." He smiled softly and escorted her out to her desk giving her strict instructions not to worry.

Jean sighed as she gathered her purse and put the top on her portable coffee cup. Maybe Bradley was right. Taking a few days off would be good for her. She could stop off at the pharmacy on the way back to her apartment and get some sleeping aids. Maybe those would help her get a night of restful sleep.

Soon, she was back at her apartment with sleeping aids, pizza, and a large tub of ice cream. There was no way she wouldn't get good rest with these on hand. She smiled to herself as she went to put the ice cream in the freezer. Just then, a stabbing pain bloomed across her forehead and the ice cream tumbled to the floor as she did.

* * *

 

_Everything was blurry. People were moving all around her. Colored lights were everywhere and she couldn't breathe. Where had he gone? They were supposed to meet and yet she saw no sign of him in all the madness. All he had to do was hurry to her and they could be gone. So, what was taking so long? Had something gone wrong?_

_She spun around in circles, her hair whipping at her face, but saw no sign of him amongst all the people battling each other. Tears sprung to her eyes as the inevitable sunk in. He probably was dead. Then, she knew what she had to do. She had to run._

_The Time-Turner in her pocket felt heavier and heavier as she tried to reach the apparation point. She thought she was running pretty fast but every step felt far too slow and she knew she had to hurry. Suddenly, her foot hit something relatively soft and she looked down as she feel. It was a body._

* * *

 

Jean's eyes shot open and tears she hadn't felt were streaming down her face silently. She was shaking and her head felt like someone had stepped on it. She tried to stand and walk to her room but found that her legs were shaking too hard to do so. She opted for the sofa instead.

She pulled herself up onto the sofa, breathing heavily as she yanked the blanket that always occupied the end of the sofa toward her. The shaking was subsiding, though instead of feeling warm, she felt a cold that had nothing to do with the temperature. Pulling the blanket all the way up to her chin, Jean began to stare intently at the ceiling, as if it could provide answers for her.

Then she began to sob.

Her dreams weren't making an ounce of sense to her. She always remembered the general idea of what happened in her dreams but could never seem to recall anything too specific to put together. It drove her absolutely insane. She wished she didn't feel so alone, but she had no family and no real friends. Sure, she got on with her coworkers but they weren't people Jean would consider friends.

At the moment, a sadness and longing filled her heart, making her chest hurt. She was missing something (or someone?) and she didn't even know why, who, or what it was she was missing. Somewhere in her mind, Jean knew that she hadn't always been this...lonely. She had friends growing up, friends she knew cared about her. But now, where were they? All grown up and living their lives and starting families, not bothering to even ask how she was doing or if she needed anything. There was no one.

Jean Black cried and cried until she couldn't even remember what made her cry in the first place. She cried herself into an exhausted sleep as the last rays of the day exited her living room.

* * *

"How's it been?" Bradley asked the guests in his office the next day as he poured himself a glass of fire whiskey.

"She's having nightmares. What about, I have no idea. But I do believe she needs to know the truth. We have to tell her sometime soon." his guest replied.

Bradley sighed and took a long drink from his glass. "I sent her home for two days. There's your window of opportunity, Harry."

Harry chose to drank the glass of fire whiskey in front of him. Ron took that chance to speak. "I've heard tell of dementors not far from here. Perhaps if we could lure one over near her apartment..."

Harry and Bradley gave a sharp glare in Ron's direction. "You can't possibly." Bradley said incredulously.

Ron shrugged. "It would save us from having to explain each and everything. For all we know, that might make her remember some things."

The three of them were silent as they contemplated that thought. Finally, Bradley spoke again. "As the minister for magic in the United States of America, I must tell you that what you are suggesting is absolutely illegal. We do things differently here than in the United Kingdom. I am not just some puppet. I could have you imprisoned in Alcatraz."

Ron paled. "Alcatraz? The muggle prison?"

Bradley smiled humorlessly. "No longer. We converted it to a wizard prison the same year it closed, in 1963. Of course the wards around it make the muggles believe its abandoned and haunted."

"No dementors then." Harry answered shortly, his jaw twitching,

Bradley turned around from the window he was staring out of and gave the men a curious look. "I'm sure if one of _you_ happened to find a dementor and lead it on a chase near her apartment...well, that's different."

Harry stared in disbelief at Bradley. "You can't be serious!"

"I see no other way." Ron replied, looking between Bradley and Harry.

Harry sighed and stood up. "There is. We show up to her apartment and just tell her the truth. She'll believe us. She's desperate. She's going to want an explanation for the nightmares she's having. For all we know, her nightmares could just be repressed memories."

Ron looked over at Bradley who nodded thoughtfully. After a long while, Bradley cleared his throat. "Fine. Tell her. But leave me out of it. I don't want her to know who I really am just yet. I'd rather tell her myself."

Harry shook Bradley's hand firmly as he and Ron began to leave. "Thanks, Jim. We really appreciate you looking after her since she's been here."

Bradley smiled at Harry. "Hey, now, you set me up with Victoria Emerson from your DMLE, so it's the least I can do. Just promise me you'll update me when you're back in the UK with her."

Harry and Ron nodded and apparated to Jean's apartment.


	3. Chapter 3

Harry and Ron apparated with a loud pop to Jean's bedroom. Luckily, she wasn't in there. They walked into the living room and saw her passed out on the sofa, tear tracks streaking from her eyes. Her hair was as unruly as ever and there were dark circles under her eyes. Her skin had taken on a pallor that neither Ron nor Harry had ever been used to.

Peering into the kitchen, Harry noticed that an ice cream container was on the floor and dented, as if it had been dropped. A box of pizza lay untouched on the stove top. He turned around and went back to where Ron was standing.

"Should we wake her?" Ron asked softly, his eyes gleaming with unshed tears.

Harry grabbed his hand and held it tightly. "No. Let her sleep. From what Bradley told us, she needs it." he said quietly.

Ron nodded and pointed his wand at her. " _Stupefy._ "

A bright red light shot out from the end of Ron's wand and Jean twitched softly in her sleep, her head lolling off to the side. Harry picked her up and instructed Ron to pack all of her clothes into a bag. Ten minutes later, Ron hoisted the bag up on his shoulder and took hold of Harry and they apparated with a pop.

* * *

They landed in Harry's home. It was dark, silent, and a bit dusty as Harry hadn't been there in a few weeks. He's spent six months trying to get a lead on where his friend was and who was responsible for what happened to her, and he was no closer to figuring any of it out than he was right now.

After tucking Jean in upstairs in the guest room, Ron began to make dinner. Harry grabbed the files he had on Jean from the table and began to sift through them. He quietly agonized over the fact that his friend's memory had been tampered with. There might not be a way for her to regain it.

"Harry," Ron said as he set a bowl of stew in front of him. "Do you still have the penseive from Dumbledore's office?"

Harry's head shot up and a smile bloomed across his face. He grabbed Ron and pulled him toward him. "You're a genius." He said before kissing him and sprinting upstairs to his office. Ron shook his head and sat down to begin eating.

A clunking noise was heard all the way down the stairs and finally Harry appeared with the penseive. He pushed it up against the wall and sat back down in front of the files, his momentary happiness now declining rapidly. He looked up at Ron with a frown on his face.

"How are we going to extract her memories? How would we even know which ones to extract in the first place?" he asked as he gathered a spoonful of stew before eating it.

Ron tugged at his lip in silence before sighing loudly. "We'll have to wait until she's awake. She has to know who we are and what we're doing first. We don't want to scare her off."

As much as Harry didn't want to, he knew Ron was right. It wouldn't do to just take random memories from Jean's head. Instead, he ate his stew in silent thought. He thought back to the last day of the war.

" _Ron, where is she? Where's Hermione?" Harry asked after he left Dumbledore's office._

_Ron ran a hand through his hair as he tried to catch his breath. His forehead was shining with sweat and his eyes were watering. "I can't find her." That was all Harry needed to hear before he tore through the halls and down the stairs in search of his best friend._

_Ron was surprisingly able to keep up with Harry's brisk pace, though by the time they finally stopped outside the castle, he seemed to be out of breath. They looked all around them. There were people everywhere and for those who lay on the ground there was no clear discernment of the living and the dead. He ran forward, attempting to examine each person in hopes that none of them would be Hermione. He soon realized how impossible this would be._

" _I can't find her! What if she's—"_

" _Harry, please. Don't. She's Hermione. There's no way she could—"_

" _WELL, WHERE IS SHE?"_

_His chest felt as if it might cave in any second and his breathing seemed to speed up too fast along with his heart. There was no way she was gone. She couldn't be._

A tapping noise roused Harry from his thoughts and he saw that Ron was taking his bowl away from him and had tossed the spoon in the sink. He yawned and stood up to stretch. At least they'd found Hermione, but he wasn't sure if he could even be happy. His best friend had her memory obliviated and was now calling herself Jean Black. It upset him greatly that he still didn't know who'd done this to her.

* * *

The manor was just as dreary as it had been for the last two years. There seemed to be no life within it, though the Malfoys had not opted to leave their manor due to a few murders that had taken place there. The house elves were still trying to scrub blood from the floors months later. The manor no longer felt spacious and peaceful. Now it was just haunting and terrifying.

Draco walked through the manor feeling smaller than he ever had in his life despite his 6'3 frame. He only had one thing on his mind: the love of his life.

Thunder boomed outside and lightning struck near a hill not too far away, lighting the manor briefly in a ghostly pale light. Rain slapped against the window and the howling of the wind rivaled that of a werewolf. Despite the many portraits and statues that decorated the hall he was currently in, it still felt cold and unfamiliar.

Finally, he came to the door at the end and pushed it open. His mother was asleep on the couch in the corner. One of the house elves had graced her with a blanket and a roaring fire. Draco gently woke her up and brought her to her room before returning to the office.

A file was sitting on the desk with only two words in the top right corner: _**Jean Black**_. He wasn't quite certain if he'd found just who he was looking for though. Ever since the war ended and his father was thrown into Azkaban (this time serving a thirty year sentence), the Malfoy family's influence and reach had been shortened considerably, thus making it even more difficult to search for the person he was searching for.

There were no pictures in the file, just a few sheets of paper describing who she was and where she'd come from. He had no way of being certain, but he felt that he'd finally found the elusive Hermione Granger. He felt a stab in his heart thinking about how he had to leave her. He felt his heart crushing at the idea that he'd actually thought she was dead for a time.

But all that had changed when he'd finally been able to get a file of Jean Black, if that was indeed who Hermione was now. He had to see for himself, though. Her last know residence was an apartment in New York City, not far from the building that housed the eastern division of the American Ministry of Magic. He didn't think it was a coincidence that that building was also where she worked.

Deciding the time had finally come, he apparated to an alley not too far from the address of Jean's apartment and set off into the night.


	4. Chapter 4

Jean woke up feeling more rested than she had in many months. She also woke up confused at first, then scared. She was in a room she didn't recognize and in a bed that was not her own. She peeled the blanket away from her body carefully and crept toward the door of the dark room.

The window above the bed she'd been sleeping in showed nothing but hills lit silver in the moonlight and several trees leading to a forest some distance away. Collecting herself, Jean tried the door and saw that it was unlocked.

She wasn't in her apartment. That much was painfully obvious. According to her surroundings, she must have been quite a distance away, maybe in Massachusetts or Vermont, but there was something about the landscape that seemed achingly familiar to her. She closed her eyes and breathed in and out once before going downstairs where she could hear voices.

"We have to be delicate when we tell her. Anything could set her off or trigger something. When people lose their memories they can get crazy headaches and flashbacks. We have to make sure we don't scare her, Ron. So that means no hugging." A deep voice said from the kitchen. It felt like Jean had heard it somewhere before but she wasn't sure where.

A headache was slowly building in her head and she blinked hard in an attempt to ignore it. She placed her hand on the wall as she walked through the hall toward the voices.

"But, Harry, she's one of my best friends! I can't just pretend like I don't know her! We've spent 9 months without her and…and she probably doesn't even remember us! She's going to look at us like we're fucking _strangers_ to her! We _grew up_ together!" The other voice, presumably Ron, replied, cracking as if he were about to cry.

Jean could hear Harry shushing him. She stepped forward and the entire kitchen and living room was in her view. Ron had his hands on the counter and his head was hanging. He was shaking and sobbing. Harry was continuing to shush him as he walked closer to him.

"Everything will be alright. You'll see. But you have to understand, Ron, that things are different now. She's lost her memory. It won't return overnight…if ever it does." Harry turned Ron around and wrapped his arms around him, pulling him tightly toward him. He rubbed his back comfortingly and continued shushing him.

Jean stood at the entrance of the kitchen horrified. They could only have been talking about her. So, she'd lost her memories. That could only mean that the nightmares that had been plaguing her for the last six months had been flashbacks. But they had always centered on some sort of fight or battle, never anything before that.

Jean Black could only remember very vague facts about her life. Her name was Jean Black. She had friends. Her birthday was June 12, but that didn't feel correct to her. She worked at Phoenix Unlimited but couldn't quite recall how she started working there. She lived in an apartment in New York, but couldn't quite recall when and how she started living there. She knew that her favorite color was and her favorite food but that was the extent of it. Whenever Jean tried to think of something about herself that wasn't generic, her head hurt more and it felt she was hitting a wall. And now she knew why.

"Who am I?" she whispered to herself hoarsely as tears began to cloud her vision.

Hearing this, both Ron and Harry turned to the entrance of the kitchen, immediately letting go of each other and looking at her with wide eyes.

"Her-"

"Jean! You're awake!" Harry cut off whatever it was Ron was going to say. He gestured that she sit down at the table and Ron began pouring a glass of water for her.

Harry and Ron then sat down in front of her and waited until she'd finished drinking her water. Harry spoke up again. "I know you're wondering why you're here and how you got here. We've no intention of hurting you, of course. We're old friends of yours and we've been trying to find you for quite some time."

"But you couldn't. Not really, because my memory was…is missing." Jean said softly as she stared down at the table. She knew Harry and Ron wouldn't hurt her. Somewhere inside, she knew she could trust the two of them with her life. Still, the fact that her memory was gone made her want to cry even more.

Harry reached behind him and grabbed the file he'd kept on his friend for this very occasion. He pushed it toward her slowly and she finally looked up at him.

"Everything you want or need to know about yourself is…in this folder. We know you've been having headaches, possibly from the flashbacks you've been having. You've always been an avid reader, so we figured it might be easier to learn about yourself that way. We don't want to say too much and cause you physical pain. So, just read until your head starts to hurt or whatever. Maybe something you see might jog your memory along." Ron said helpfully after a while.

Jean hadn't opened the folder yet, deciding that she wanted to ask something first. "What's my name? My real name? I don't want…I'd rather hear it from the two of you, since you are, as you put it, old friends."

Ron and Harry gave each other worried looks before a look of determination crossed Ron's face. Taking a deep breath, he exhaled and said, "Hermione. Hermione Jean Granger. That's your real name."

"I thought that my name was Jean Black. I guess I can see where Jean came from. But, what about Black?" she asked.

A pained look crossed Harry's face before he finally answered. "Black came from my godfather. His name was Sirius Black. He…he died a few years ago. Whoever set you up in New York wanted to make it hard for anyone from here to track you. We had a hell of a time trying to find you."

Jean, or Hermione rather, tilted her head slightly. "Where exactly _is_ here?"

"The United Kingdom. Bracknell Forest, Berkshire, England to be exact." Harry answered quickly.

She nodded in understanding, her eyes boring down into the file she had yet to open, before looking back up once more. "Could you please…call me Jean? Until I'm able to sort myself out? This is all so much and that name—"

"Of course, Her-. Jean. Of course." Ron replied with an easy smile. He then got up and pulled Harry with him. "Let us know if you need anything. We'll be in the living room."

They left Jean in silence as she cracked open the file and began reading as she walked upstairs to the guest room she'd previously awakened in.

Draco frowned as he stepped into the apartment Jean Black supposedly resided in. It didn't appear as if anyone really lived there. There were no pictures up on the wall and hardly any furniture. Casting a _hominum revelo_ spell, he figured out there was no one there, nor had there been for some time. He walked into Jean's bedroom and saw that there were no clothes in the closet or drawers. In the kitchen, whatever food that had once been there was now gone.

She was gone. But where? Had someone taken her? There was only one way to find out.

Draco apparated and wound up outside the home of Harry Potter and Ronald Weasley. For all his misgivings about them in school, they had grown to be two of the most respected Aurors in the Ministry and now they were on better terms with one another. Draco himself was presently interning for the Department of Magical Law Enforcement in its Hit Wizard program. He'd decided after his father had been thrown in Azkaban that he wanted to be on the right side of the law. Soon, his job would require him to apprehend extremely dangerous criminals, and he was alright with that.

He knocked on the door and waited patiently, hoping someone would let him in soon as it was nearing one in the morning. He heard footsteps on the other side and the door opened to reveal a rather disheveled Harry Potter and Ronald Weasley.

"Malfoy. To what do I owe the late visit?" Harry asked breathlessly as he finished buttoning the top of his shirt. Ron peered out from behind him cautiously, taking in the sight of Draco Malfoy on Harry's doorstep.

Draco gestured inside the house and Harry and Ron stepped aside to let them in. Draco took a seat on the sofa while Harry and Ron sat in their respective armchairs. After a long silence, Draco finally asked what he'd come to ask.

"Would you happen to know the location of Jean Black?"


	5. Chapter 5

Ron glanced over at Harry apprehensively. Harry, for his part, didn't look in any way perturbed. As always lately, he remained cool and collected. He got up and busied himself in the kitchen with making tea for Draco, while Ron got cups and told Draco to sit at the kitchen table.

"Who's looking for her?" Harry asked calmly, watching as Draco's eyes flitted around the room, taking in the sizeable home's kitchen.

Draco finally stopped looking everywhere and looked at Harry and Ron. "The DMLE—"

"I really think we would know if the DMLE was looking for her, Draco. Be honest." Ron replied, cutting him off. "Why do you want to know where she is? She's safe and that's all that matters."

Draco sighed and shook his head before draining his tea and standing up. "I knew I should never have come here in the first place. You wouldn't understand anyway, probably arrest me or something."

Harry and Ron glanced at each other in confusion. "Why would we arrest you?"

Draco looked around the slightly dim kitchen, at all the things in the home that indicated people lived there. There was a clock on the wall in the shape of a lion's head with ruby and gold hands ticking away inside. Warmth radiated from the stove where the tea was still sitting in the kettle and there were containers lining the counters with seasonings and rice and sugar. Odd things were on the kitchen table and counters: keys, folded papers, pens, and notebooks. Draco realized in this moment that he envied Harry and Ron. He envied the fact that the shit hit the fan months ago and yet their house still looked and felt very much so like a home, while his felt like some sort of cemetery.

He sighed and closed his tightly, bracing himself for the confrontation that was likely to occur. At the moment he was very much rethinking his decision to come visit them at such an odd hour of the night. But, he was a Malfoy and he would not be afraid. Not anymore.

"I know how she lost her memory."

* * *

Jean Black was upstairs reading through the file Harry had given her about her whole life. From it she discovered the things about her that had always made her head hurt when she thought too much about them. She found that now that she was aware of her memory loss, her head didn't hurt as much as it did now that she was learning things about herself rather than trying to remember them.

She now knew that her birthday was not June 12, but was September 19. She was born to Robert and Jolie Granger, who were both dentists and had been obliviated of any and all memory of her. It turned out that Jolie was one of four daughters (Julia, Camille, and Avril being the others) born to Matilda and James de La Fontaine, de La Fontaine being one of the most noble magical houses in France and Portugal. Camille and Avril de La Fontaine were still alive and lived together in their family home in Paris.

She'd attended Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry where she'd been in Gryffindor House and was an honorary honors graduate seeing as she had not been able to be located and was presumed missing or dead by most of the wizarding world, accept those like Ron and Harry who'd been very close to her. When she read that she'd had outrageously great grades during her time there, it made her smile a little as she felt a familiar sense of pride fill her. Her Patronus was an otter, though she made a mental note to learn again exactly what a Patronus was. Her wand, which according to the file had been lost and presumed destroyed, had been of an unknown length but was made of vine wood with a dragon heartstring core. There was nothing else inside about her. If there was anything else she wanted to know, she would have to ask Harry and Ron.

She sighed as she closed the folder and put it on the table near the bed. Jean pulled her legs up to her chest and wrapped her arms around them, closing her eyes. She felt extremely overwhelmed just thinking about the fact that she'd lived some whole other life she couldn't remember. When Jean read in the file that she'd attended a school of witchcraft and wizardry, it hadn't freaked her out. In fact, it felt more than a little familiar to her and she found herself desperate to just remember it all.

* * *

"What are you talking about? How do you know how she lost her memory?" Ron replied immediately, with a suspicious and slightly angry look on his face. "It was you, wasn't it? You did this to her!" Ron's voice was elevated by this point.

Harry gave Ron a very pointed look. "Please, Ron, be quiet!"

Draco glanced between them and shook his head slowly. "So, she's here then." His jaw set and he tapped his fingers on the table to keep from lashing out. He wasn't sure that he was all that surprised that Jean Black, or Hermione for that matter, was here. The fact that they'd let him in, knowing she  _was_  there angered him slightly. He could have been anyone, and  _had_  he been anyone, her safety would have been jeopardy.

Harry focused his attention on Draco again. "Yes. She's here. The American Minister for Magic gave us permission to bring her back here. In fact, he more than encouraged it. She  _will_  be safe here," Draco sighed slightly at this, letting out a breath he couldn't remember ever holding. "However, you need to tell us how she lost her memory.  _Was_  it you that obliviated her?"

Draco stood and went to peer out of the window thoughtfully. It was getting cloudy and he felt that a rainstorm was soon to occur. "No," he began. "It wasn't me. It was my father."

"That slimy git! And all this time, you knew? You could've turned the bastard in!" Ron asked heatedly. Yet again, Harry had to reign him in by touching his shoulder.

Draco spun around agitatedly. "And said what? He's already serving a thirty sentence and he probably won't even live to see it through! If he does, he'll be insane by then. Nothing I could say would make any difference."

The dim room seemed slightly dimmer and the lion clock on the wall chimed that it was now 2am. At this, Draco made to exit the kitchen. Harry and Ron got up to follow him. They finally stopped him at the front door. "You don't honestly think we're letting you leave right now, do you? Why did your father obliviate Hermione?"

He shook his head and pulled his coat tighter around him. "It's not what you think. All I can tell you, until she gets her memory back, is that it's not what you think." Draco opened the door, taking advantage of Harry and Ron's slight shock, and apparated not even a step from the front door.


	6. Chapter 6

"We don't have a choice now. We need her memories for the pensieve, or her dreams at least. Draco won't tell us anything until she's remembered at least a few things." Harry said quietly after Draco was gone. Ron was still glaring at the spot down the walk-up where he'd disapparated.

"You're right," he ground out. "This could help her."

Moments later, they walked back inside and saw that Jean was sitting at the kitchen table and looking at the pensieve oddly. Her small hands were cupped around a large mug with tea inside of it. She sipped at it and finally looked toward them. "It's swirling inside. What is that?"

Harry and Ron gave each other a look and Ron sat down. Harry walked toward the object of Jean's curiosity. "It's called a penseive. You can store memories inside of it and revisit them. Ron thought it might help you a bit. Perhaps we could look at the memories you have of…the dreams you've been having."

Jean looked down, tugging at her lip, and closed her eyes. "You won't have any other information to help you understand how I lost my memories. I don't know how that pensieve would help." she said finally, though her voice revealed otherwise. She was afraid, afraid of two people who called themselves her friends seeing into the very things that had caused her so much discontent and sadness for the last few months.

Ron, for his part, looked hurt at this. In his mind, his best friend was never afraid of anything. She stood strong and immovable, especially in the face of something she didn't know anything about. It was hard for him to reconcile the memory of that Hermione to the Jean Black that was in front of him. He realized then that they were very different people, and the Hermione he remembered might not ever come back. This thought hit him with an absolutely crushing force and he felt then that he was sputtering for air. Black spots littered his vision and his heart was beating so fast now he was convinced it would launch itself from its resting place.

Harry noticed this and immediately came to Ron's side. He'd seen the wheels turning in his head. He'd seen him grow pale and thus had seen the cold sheen of sweat break out across his body. He could see now that he currently fighting the urge to vomit. It was too much for him. He took Ron's hand in an instant and knelt down in front of him, turning Ron gently toward him, as if this were a normal occurrence. And it was. Ron had been having panic attacks quite frequently in the months since the war ended. He'd been able to try his best to control them so that they didn't happen while he was working. But now he wasn't at work.

"You can breathe," Harry said softly, lightly squeezing Ron's hand. "You can breathe. Just slow down." His words seemed to be heard but Ron wasn't quite able to put them into action. Harry looked straight into Ron's wide and terrified eyes. "Look at me," he said. "I'm right here. She's right here. Everything is going to be fine, I swear it"

Ron felt Harry squeezing his hand more firmly now and felt like a balloon that had tried to escape into the sky but was now being pulled back down to earth. Each squeeze of his hand felt like another pull. The black spots in his vision slowly began to disappear and he found himself imitating the pattern of breathing Harry was currently exhibiting in front of him.

Meanwhile, Jean looked as if she were somewhere between being sad, lost, and confused. She felt like she should have been able to do something to help but she didn't know what she possibly could do. She didn't remember Harry and Ron or anything about them. The fact of the matter was that they were strangers to her, despite what they and the file they gave her said. But she didn't want them to remain strangers. She knew, deep down, that they'd meant it when they said they were her best friends. The problem was that Jean Black (she still didn't know if she wanted to be called Hermione) was extremely practical in the sense that anything she believed was something she had to see first. She needed to see her memories. Better yet, she needed to see  _their_  memories.

"It may not be a good idea to look at my dreams…er…memories, but maybe it would help  _me_  to look at yours."

* * *

Draco was back in his office in Malfoy Manor feeling positively annoyed. He should have guessed that Potter and Weasley would have been hiding Jean Black. He had to start referring to her as that because, unlike Weasley, he could recognize that the woman he'd loved, Hermione Granger, was no longer there. In her place, as a result of his father's safety precaution, was Jean Black. Hermione herself had come up with the name and told Draco that if anything happened that name was what she wanted to be hidden under.

He'd mentioned it to Potter and Weasley which, of course, made them believe it was their idea. He wanted to take Jean back with him to Malfoy manor, but knew that in her amnesiac state, she would not take kindly to another stranger whisking her away to the English countryside, though he wasn't quite sure how much more country one could get compared to the Weasley and Potter's abode.

Yes, he knew the circumstances behind Hermione Granger's memory loss and subsequent identity change, but he could not tell Weasley and Potter. He and Hermione had both agreed that they couldn't know unless they were able to figure it out on their own. She wasn't even sure she could trust them enough with the truth. No, memory loss had not been the Plan A but it was the backup plan, because ultimately, no one, not even Potter and Weasley, could know what Draco and Hermione had been working to do behind everyone's backs.

* * *

He was tall and not skinny by any stretch of the word. His somehow hulking and imposing stature could be repressed in this bar full of civilians celebrating the win of the local football team. He tried his best not to seem to be repulsed by them, after all, one had to take happiness wherever it could be found nowadays. His amber colored eyes scanned each person thoughtfully. His face was free of any loose strands of ink black hair. Despite the fact that he'd dressed in his finest robes, he still seemed to blend in with the local Irishmen.

"Good evening, sire. I trust you have not been waiting too long." A slightly rickety voice said, disturbing the man from his musings. His eyes raked slowly across the newcomer, narrowing slightly. He'd not expected this average lump of a human to be the one meant to assist him in his plans.

"Who are you again?" he asked, though he knew exactly who the lump was. He decided internally that he would refer to the man as such.

"David Wood, sir." The lump replied, his voice slightly more steady. "Might I add that it is a most honorable gift to finally meet you, Mr. Dane!"

The man smiled a cat-like grin and chuckled, a sound that rightly unnerved David "Lump" Wood. "Mr. Wood, I must insist you call me Victor. After all, if we are to move forward with my plans for the British Ministry of Magic, we cannot afford to be formal."

He'd said it as if he was talking to an old friend, and yet Wood was unable to feel as such. Victor Dane made him feel small and insignificant, but still the man was awe-inspiring. Very few knew about him, but David Wood was one of the ones who did. He knew he was in the presence of wizarding royalty. After all, how many could honestly say they were meeting the son of Salazar Slytherin and Morgana?


	7. Chapter 7

"Do you feel anything different now?" Ron asked, peering over at his best friend. Harry gave him a meaningful look before turning to Jean for a response. For her part, she did look to be concentrating very hard on trying to recall some of the memories she'd seen. They'd been looking at memories for hours and it was past dawn.

Eventually, Jean shook her head, but didn't look as sad as her friends before her. "I don't really remember anything more, but it doesn't hurt anymore to think of the two of you now. Even that guy in your memory, Draco? Seeing him in there gave me the same feeling I get around you two: comfort and trust." She had a hopeful look in her eyes and she was actually smiling for the first time since she'd arrived. That made Ron feel better just seeing it. He gazed at her with every bit of pride he could muster.

Since the end of the war, Ronald Weasley had grown up and learned many things about himself. He'd learn that he loved women and loved men as well, the one of this heart being Harry. When Hermione lost her memory and subsequently disappeared from his and Harry's life, he had a realization that made him feel slightly guilty.

During his time at Hogwarts, he'd thought he would end up with Hermione and Harry with Ginny because that was just what was going to happen, but he couldn't have been more wrong. Ginny had ended up with Dean Thomas. Neville and Luna had just started dating not long ago, and Seamus was now with Parvati Patil. Of course, he hadn't expected to fall for Harry. However, like many wonderful things in life, it just happened.

Harry understood him and loved him unconditionally for who he was, and for Ron, that was exactly what he needed. Harry was who got him through his panic attacks and his nightmares, the nightmares that they found they both had so frequently in the immediate time after the war. What Jean (he'd decided to call her that in his head so it would be easier to do so verbally) said about Draco got him thinking.

He was sure now that he knew why Draco had been looking for her. He was in love with her. But Ron wasn't sure that provided a reason for Lucius Malfoy to obliviate Jean. He could've gotten any Death Eater to kill her. Obliviating her had been personal. He thought longer on the subject, yet he couldn't come up to a conclusion that fit why Lucius had taken away his best friend's memory. He decided he would stow away those thoughts for another time.

"Are you remembering anything new?" Harry asked, noticing Ron look up at him from his thoughts.

Jean turned her head slightly, the way one would if they were concentrating on something particularly difficult before answering. "I don't know. Honestly, I can't tell the difference. I'll know if my dreams become clearer. From what you two have shown me, my dreams actually happened. Maybe another memory will surface?"

Harry nodded in understanding. "The sun is up now. Perhaps we should get some sleep." He said as he glanced outside the kitchen window.

Ron and Jean had just gone upstairs when a silvery patronus entered the room in the form of an eagle. The beak opened and a familiar voice came out. "I am in London for a few days, Harry. I'd really like to speak with Jean at some point and make sure she's alright. I will be by your house tomorrow night around 9pm." It was Jim Bradley. The American Minister of Magic was coming to see them.

* * *

Victor Dane had a very long life. He went through periods of visibility and periods of the opposite. There were times when he'd wanted his presence known and times when he simply wanted nothing more than to blend in with the dirt on the ground. This was not out of any self-deprecation, but a sense of self preservation. Being the oldest wizard in the world had its highs and lows. For many centuries, Victor Dane had stayed alive through various methods, but the last few periods, he'd discovered something absolutely astonishing about magic.

Victor Dane was born five years after his father left Hogwarts. His mother had been the witch known as Morgana and he'd been born on a cold rainy night in either November or December, he remembered not which month as he grew older. His mother and father had taken him and gone into hiding in southern France, where they lived together until Morgana decided to take her own life when Victor was merely five years old. He and his father, the great and powerful Salazar Slytherin, stood powerless as they watched Morgana burn at the stake for knowingly showing her magic in a village a few miles from their own. She'd repelled any and all attempts by Victor and Salazar to help her, even temporarily suspending their magic until the very moment the flames had fully enveloped her and took away her last shrieks of pain and laughter.

He recalled asking his father why his mother would do such a thing and yet could not recall an answer. They'd thought, at first, that perhaps she'd had the Imperius curse set upon her, but she'd planned her own death for over a year prior to the event. She'd never said goodbye to her only son, instead treating him as if it had been any other day. As old as he was, Victor still could not understand why his mother had selfishly chosen to abandon he and his father.

They'd gotten along alright in her absence, but that day stayed in his mind forever. He vowed to never be as weak as she was. He vowed that he would live forever just to spite her very memory. How dare she? He'd asked himself and Salazar this question many a lonely night. How dare she leave her child behind? For Victor, that hurt more than even seeing her die. Just knowing that she'd chosen to burn and die at the stake all while hearing Victor cry out for her stung more than he could ever hope to admit.

He'd gotten his letter to Hogwarts six years later and his father promptly ripped it to shreds and tossed it into the fireplace before telling him that he would be going to Durmstrang in northern Europe. He'd fit in just fine there with his tree-like stature, ink blank hair, and watchful amber eyes. He'd even made a few friends, and yet he never felt connected to anyone. He'd kept his distance from anyone that could ever hope to get close to him; that was until he'd met Helena.

Helena had been a most powerful witch, her magic rivaling the strength of even his parents. She hadn't  _tried_  to get under his skin, which had been precisely why she had. She was taller than most women of the time, with striking brown eyes. He smiled softly as he remembered her beautiful, dark skin and the way it looked every morning when the sun rose. She had an easy way about her and her magic was proof of that. With Helena, Victor didn't feel so cynical and distrusting. Her smile was just enough to make his whole day better.

But like his mother, she had been taken away from him.

Unlike his mother, it had not been her own choice.

Helena had been murdered by a jealous Muggle. The two were living in a village a couple hundred miles from London and Helena had caught the attention of many men there. None of them would heed the fact that they could never hope to win her heart when she was with Victor. He'd gone out, as he usually did, to a town a day's journey from their own to get a gift for her: a wedding ring. She'd told him two days before that she believed she was with child. Victor had never thought he would be one to have children, not after what his mother did and not after his strained relationship with his father. But he'd been overjoyed.

When he returned from his journey, the candles that were usually lit within their cottage were extinguished and there was no fire in the fireplace. The curtains were drawn shut and the gate was slightly open. Something twisted in his gut as he cast a  _hominum revelo_  spell that showed no one was there. He raced inside and up the rickety stairs to their room, and his heart was torn apart at the sight. Helena sat upright against the headboard of the bed, her eyes unseeing and blood covering her pale white nightgown. Her long hair was stained with the substance and thrown off to one side. He knew immediately that she was dead and with a few spells, was able to determine who had done such an egregious act.

He swore then, in his haze of sorrow and hurt and anger and despair, that he would exact revenge on all Muggles. It didn't matter if they had been the ones to take away the light of his life or not. They would and could all die. He would have more power than his parents could ever have hoped to have and he would make the world regret the day he'd ever set foot upon it.


	8. Chapter 8

Lucius Malfoy was not a bad person. He did not really believe himself to be. Certainly, he erred away from what could be called a good person. In fact, most would probably say that Lucius Malfoy was morally questionable, but he was not an inherently bad person. He'd had plenty of time to recall and revisit decisions he'd made throughout his life and had ultimately concluded that he was neither good nor bad. He was simply gray.

He thought about this as he stared at the damp brick wall in front of him. His cell in Azkaban was as spacious as a cell in Azkaban could be: barely bigger than the cupboard in the kitchen Dobby, his house elf, had once resided in. He was on the top level of Azkaban, the level considered high security. The ceilings were low, and many a time he'd found himself cursing his ancestors for the fact that he was such a tall man. In the cell, he had just enough room to stand, his once platinum blonde hair brushing against the ceiling if it was mussed up enough. There was a small window, big enough for just one person to fit through, which was devoid of any bars. Many times, Lucius considered jumping, but he was wandless and he was guaranteed the certain death that came with jumping into the frigid waters of the North Sea. As Azkaban was located in the middle of said sea, he still would have to swim to Britain, and that just would not do.

No, Lucius was quite fine with taking his chances inside Azkaban. He could wish for escape all he wanted, but it was a selfish thing to do. After all, him being in Azkaban at all had been as selfless as he could get. He was in Azkaban because he chose to be, and anyone who knew Lucius well knew that was the truth. Draco knew it. Narcissa knew it. Were Severus Snape still alive, he might have known it too. But there was no way of knowing that since Severus was still in a coma from that snake bite he'd suffered at Hogwarts.

Lucius knew exactly what he was doing when he'd allowed himself to be arrested on the charges of being a part of the hate group known as the Death Eaters and committing (supposedly) numerous crimes that had vaguely sounded like robbery, murder, treason, and a host of other things Lucius tuned out at his trial. He would never be leaving Azkaban, and that was fine with him. His decision to be incarcerated was both selfless and selfish.

From Voldemort, Lucius had learned that Harry Potter had not really been his only threat. Harry Potter was publicly and mostly privately seen as Voldemort's greatest enemy. But that had not been true. Shortly before Severus had been attacked, he'd shared with Lucius what little he'd known about a wizard that would give Voldemort a run for his money. For in those tense few months before the Battle of Hogwarts had taken place, Lucius had learned of the existence of Victor Dane.

Hardly anyone knew he existed at all, but those who did knew that he was a wizard to be feared. It was rumored in the oldest pureblood circles that he was the illegitimate son of Salazar Slytherin that had been killed by Slytherin's wife Lucretia Slytherin. But that was not true. Only a few people knew that Lucretia had been killed by Morgana, Salazar's mistress, when Morgana found that she was with child for Salazar. Apparently, it had been a grand scheme to get him away from Lucretia and let her legacy live on both physically and magically. From accounts handed down over the centuries, the general consensus was that Victor Dane never knew about Lucretia, as nearly all traces of her were obliterated by Morgana.

But Severus told Lucius all that he knew about Dane, and Lucius told Draco. Draco was the only one he'd trusted with such information. Draco had set about secretly contacting the brightest witch of the age: Hermione Granger. Together, in the months leading up to the battle, they'd planned ways to stop Dane. Ultimately, they both knew beyond the shadow of a doubt that Harry would indeed end Voldemort's miserable existence. Thus they focused their efforts on learning more about Dane and the threat he posed. What they'd learned was what had prompted the three of them to form a plan.

The day of the battle, Hermione Granger and Draco Malfoy decided that they would use a Time-Turner in an attempt to eliminate the great Victor Dane. They had no real idea as to what their next step would be after doing so, but they never made it that far. The contingency plan had been that if either one were unable to get to their designated meeting point during the battle, it would have to be assumed that the other was dead and the remaining one would have their memory obliterated.

Lucius did not hate Muggleborns, nor did he particularly like them. But he found that he liked Hermione Granger. She was smart and logical and extremely powerful as a witch. When he'd reached their designated meeting point, he'd seen her fall and assumed she'd been hit with a stunner or killing curse. Then she'd turned over and there he was. Voldemort had just made the announcement that the Death Eaters were to meet in the Forbidden Forest, and there hadn't been much time. She hadn't expected him to be there. It gave him no real pleasure to obliviate her, but he couldn't have Voldemort questioning him. Not then. So he'd done what they'd agreed on was the contingency plan.

A part of him hoped that it would have been Draco and not Hermione, because Hermione knew everything about their plan and about Victor Dane. Draco knew everything too, and while he was smart, he did not have the same gift as Hermione for seeing things others couldn't and making those connections.

So he allowed himself to be arrested for war crimes and only Draco knew the truth about what had happened to the brilliant witch known as Hermione Granger; when he thought about what he'd done in those last gasp moments of the war, he came to the realization that he was not a bad person. He was just gray.

* * *

"How has she been?" Jim asked as he stepped inside, taking off his overcoat. He looked around at the Potter-Weasley abode and thought that it would fit Jean Black just fine. He followed Harry from the little hall into the sitting room. Ron was upstairs, explaining to Jean that they had a visitor, someone she might know.

"She's been alright. We've been doing what we can to help her with her memory. She knows who she was from the file we gave her when she first arrived, but it doesn't seem like she remembers much of that. I have a penseive we've been using to show her Ron and I's memories of her. She didn't remember things so much as she did feelings. She seems to have been close with Draco Malfoy." Harry recited as he stirred sugar into his tea. Jim held his hand over his cup to let Harry know he didn't want any.

"I suppose that is good to hear. Victoria is back for some DMLE work. Still hasn't said if she wants to transfer to the American ministry." Jim replied in a conversational tone before sipping his tea. "Running the eastern division of the ministry can be so exhausting, you know. We have the highest population of witches and wizards in my division."

Harry nodded. "I suppose it must be. America is a large country."

"Cora McKnight is the head of the western division in Los Angeles and they have the second highest population. Grant Hale has the south in New Orleans and Rebecca Harrington has the north in Chicago. It is all quite exhausting business." Jim said before draining the tea he had left in his cup.

They were making small talk, and that was fine with Harry. He didn't mind learning more about the way the Americans ran things. Of course, since he and Ron were highly respected Aurors, that sometimes required them to go to other countries. Luckily, he and Jim got on well.

"And the schools? We have Hogwarts, Durmstrang, and Beauxbattons as you know."

Jim nodded as Harry poured him more tea. "Yes, yes, of course. We have only Salem Academy and Marcelle School of Magic. Most northern witches and wizards choose Salem and the southerners choose Marcelle. They are both real fine schools, in my opinion. I am actually here to speak with your minister about implementing some form of an exchange program."

Harry smiled to himself and his mind was immediately brought to Jean. He'd taken to calling her that until she said they could call her Hermione again. She would have loved being able to visit another school of magic.

"Mr. Bradley! What on earth are you doing here?" Jean gasped from the doorway, bringing Harry out of his thoughts. Both men stood as she entered the room.

"Ms. Black, would you believe me if I said I were checking up on you?" Jim replied, chuckling slightly as he encircled her with a hug. Jean, for her part, seemed shocked at this, but hugged him bag nonetheless.

"All the way here in England? Probably not. Just what are you doing here, Mr. Bradley?" she asked when they were all seated.

It was quiet again for a moment as Harry poured them all some tea. Ron was sitting on the floor near Harry and Jean.

"Ms. Black, when you worked for me at Phoenix Unlimited, you were working at the eastern division of the American Ministry of Magic as the personal secretary of the American minister for magic." Jim paused as he waited for Jean to absorb what he was saying. She seemed shocked, but nodded for him to move on. "When you first lost your memory and were rehabilitated after three months, you were sent to New York City to go in hiding, as it was assumed you were a target of the Death Eaters here in Britain. The Department of Wizard Protection was formed after the war here and you were one of the first to be moved."

Jean glanced over at Harry, whose face was expressionless. "You were the one who put me there? I was in  _rehab_? None of that was ever in the file you gave me. Why did you not tell me?" Harry couldn't answer her. They'd been trying to reintroduce her to them and their world slowly. "Is that why I always had trouble remembering the names of the people I worked with, Mr. Bradley? Because of my memory loss?"

"Most likely. Shortly before Harry had arrived to collect you and bring you back to Britain, the doctors in my eastern division had come to the conclusion that that might be the case. With your memory absent, they realized it might have also had an effect on your short term memory. That's why you wouldn't always remember the names of people you didn't really know. I was the exception to that. I gave you work to do all the time with my name on it so you would remember me and eventually I had you come in every morning to tell me about my appointments to help strengthen that."

The room was quiet again and Jean had a rather odd look on her face, a look that might have been called confused. She closed her eyes tightly and opened them again, looking up at the ceiling. She did this repeatedly and Jim, Harry, and Ron were beginning to wonder if something was wrong when they saw tears spring to her eyes. "I can't remember anything really before my time in New York. Barely anything. I don't remember my parents, just blurred figures in my mind with voices I can't always seem to recall. I don't remember you two even though I should. It is as if all I know is facts from a book that was read to me. I can't remember anything more." Her voice was cracking, a sure sign that something was indeed wrong.

Jean stood up and the three men noticed the tears that fell down her face as she did so. "I need some air." She walked out of the living room and they heard her soft cries as she walked into the hallway.

She swiped at her cheeks and eyes in a desperate effort to make the tears go away, but they wouldn't. A headache was slowly forming in her head and the pain made her cry even more. She pulled a coat on from the coatrack, unsure of who it belonged to and not caring either way. She opened the front door just in time to see someone standing on the doorstep, arm poised as if they were going to knock.

It was a man that didn't appear to be much older than her. He had short platinum blonde hair and steel gray eyes. He was dressed in heavy boots, dark jeans, and a coat. His eyes widened slightly when he saw her. Then a strange thing happened.

The nearly blinding headache forming in Jean's head seemed to erupt and vanish at the same time. She felt a pain unlike any she might have known and yet felt none. Black spots appeared before her as she swayed forward. The man caught her as she fell and would have sworn he heard her hushed voice whisper, " _Draco_ " before she fainted.


	9. Chapter 9

Avril sat quietly as she watched her sister pace back and forth, nearly wearing a hole through the Oriental rug in the drawing room they were currently sitting in. She was giving her a bland look and her soft sighing every few minutes indicated that she didn't much care about what her sister was saying anymore.

"He asked me to move in with him! That's fine, right? I mean you would think so. But then he tells me he wants me to move with him to  _America_! As if I could even  _bear_  leaving my sister here in France! Alone!"

Camille de La Fontaine had a slightly screechy voice when she got this worked up. Her olive skin took on an almost tomato-like color and her eyebrows knitted together as if there could be no separating them. Her slightly bushy brown hair was tied up in a high knot with only a few strands in her face. She nervously pulled at the long sleeves of the navy blue cashmere sweater she was wearing and brushed her hands of sweat on the black jeans she was wearing. Her black leather riding boots made a muffled clicking noise with every step she took over that poor Oriental rug. Her deep hazel eyes were pouring out the indecision she was commonly known for.

"Cam, he's a gorgeous guy! He's nice and sweet and he's a Marino! They're one of the oldest wizarding families from Italy, so you know mama and papa would have approved of him if they were alive." Avril replied, her voice as calm as it always had been.

Between all the de La Fontaine sisters, Avril had always been known to be the voice of reason. The twins, Julia and Jolie, had always come to her because of that. She felt a slight pang in her chest as she thought of the two. Jolie had been obliviated and currently lived in Australia with no memory of her family or the magical world. Julia, who'd married Argo McKinnon, brother of Marlene McKinnon, had been killed with the other McKinnons. She was at least thankful that neither of the de La Fontaine's parents were alive when these things happened. The obliviation of Jolie and the death of Julia had brought the remaining de La Fontaine sisters closer than ever.

After Julia's funeral, Camille moved back into the de la Fontaine family home on the outskirts of Paris to keep Avril company. She'd never say so, of course, but Avril was smart enough to figure it out. Camille was terrified of leaving her alone because she was terrified of losing her only other sister. Avril thought of all these things and tried to come up with a solution that Camille would be alright with.

"There's nothing to be afraid of anymore, Cam. Voldemort and his Death Eaters are gone. The magical world is rid of his pitiful soul. We are in an age of new beginnings. Do you not believe you should embrace that?" Avril asked, quietly watching her sister's reaction.

Camille stopped and took a deep breath, hugging her arms to herself the way she always did to calm herself. She opened her eyes and looked at her younger sister with adoration in her eyes. "Avril, you are the most amazing sister, you know? You're the only one that can talk me down from my craziness."

Avril smiled and got up to hug her sister. "Evan is an amazing guy. Don't let him get away. France isn't going anywhere.  _I'm_  not going anywhere. Go to America with him." She could tell her sister was listening to her because she was now hugging her so tight, Avril was certain she was seeing stars. Finally, Camille let go and informed Avril that she was going to see Evan and that she would probably be staying the night. Then, it was just Avril in the de La Fontaine home alone.

Avril Marie de La Fontaine was Camille Annette's opposite. She'd inherited their mother's thick, inky hair and deep brown eyes. Her skin was slightly darker than Camille's, a light cinnamon color that she'd also inherited from their mother. Avril wasn't nearly as distressed as her sister could be. She tried not to worry too much and left that to Camille. As the youngest sister, she understood that Camille fussed over her the way a parent might. Avril was vastly younger than her sisters: she was only twenty one years old. Camille was ten years older than her and the twins were five years older than her. Despite the age gaps, the sisters had always been very close. The twins had been fifteen when Avril had been born and practically raised her.

She left the rather large drawing room and walked down the long hall to her room that seemed to feel far too big for her. Avril set about straightening her room and opened the curtains to let some light in. She could hear Elena, their maid, bustling about somewhere in the house and decided to go to her office. With Camille leaving for America, that would leave Avril as head of House de La Fontaine. She would now be in charge of all the finances and other such things that came with holding such a position. Her first item on the agenda, however, was to know how her niece, Hermione, was doing.

* * *

Jean Black was writhing about in her sleep, sweat glistening on her forehead. Draco sat at her bedside, holding on to her hand for dear life and hoping she was alright. He had to go visit his father at Azkaban today, but he wasn't sure he would leave until he knew with certainty that Jean would be alright.

Harry and Ron stood in the doorway from time to time and brought in cool cloths to put on Jean's head while she slept fitfully. She hadn't opened her eyes since she'd fainted in Draco's arms at the front door. Jim Bradley had wanted to stay for a few hours, but was unable to do so as he was called back to London for a meeting. Thus, that meant Draco would be staying, though he couldn't have left Jean if he'd wanted to.

His muscles hurt from strain and his eyes were hurting slightly from not having much sleep the past few weeks. Sighing, he climbed into the large bed next to the woman he loved and continued to hold her hand as he pulled her slightly toward him. He noticed that she wasn't moving so much when he did this, but appeared to just be slightly restless in her sleep. Satisfied with this, he closed his eyes and fell asleep with his head resting on her upper chest, near her heart.

* * *

Being in Azkaban had allowed for Lucius to hear many things, things he was smart enough to put the pieces together to solve. There'd been odd happenings in northern Europe: tales of people being found looking as if they were centuries old when they weren't, disappearances, and odd magical spikes. Yes, Lucius could see what the rest of them could not: Victor Dane was on the move.

He was very happy that today happened to be visiting day, as it was of the utmost importance that he see Draco. Besides himself, his son, and the Granger girl, Snape was the only one who knew the most about Victor Dane. Sooner or later, Dane would figure that out and come for Snape to end his life. Despite the fact that he was in a coma, Lucius could not allow that to happen. Snape had been and could continue being their best bet at learning more about how to get Dane out of the magical world for good.

Severus Snape  _had_  to be moved from St. Mungo's immediately.

"Malfoy. Get up. You have a visitor." The guard nearest his cell barked.

Lucius stood carefully, not wanting to hit his head on the ceiling, and ducked through the door of this cell to follow the guard. His muscles groaned slightly as he stretched a bit with every step he took. He reached his arms up toward the ceiling and to the sides as he walked. He was certain that his long blonde hair must now appear very dirty and matted, but there was nothing to be done for it.

He followed the guard into a windowless, circular room with a few tables inside, though Draco was the only visitor. The guard shoved Lucius further into the room and locked the door behind him. Lucius jumped slightly at the noise, but closed his eyes and took a deep breath. When he opened them, he saw his soon staring up at him with a blank look on his face.

"I think she is beginning to remember." Draco began conversationally. Both he and his father knew that anyone could be listening.

"Good. Our friend is excersing again, as I hear it. Your godfather would love to hear of it, I'm sure." Lucius replied, raising an eyebrow slightly.

An odd expression passed over Draco's face and he nodded almost imperceptibly. "Yes, he would. He might want to come home, but I think a change of scenery might do him some good."

Lucius caught his son's message and nodded in return. "Perhaps the land of romance would suit him. I've heard it can be quite nice."

"I'm sure he would love visiting there."

A silence stretched between them that felt longer than it actually was. Eventually, Draco sighed. "How have you been, father?"

"I am making the most of this least desired situation. Your mother?"

"She sleeps a lot and speaks very little. I don't believe I've heard more than a few words from her since you went away."

They continued on that way: Lucius asking things about home and Draco updating him. Surprisingly, he'd even asked about the house elves and what they were up to. He told Draco to keep the library and office clean and to make sure Narcissa went out to walk in the garden to get some sun. They spoke for nearly an hour before the guard came back in and told them their time was up. Lucius bid his son goodbye and was escorted back to his cell.

Draco, however, felt a knot of dread beginning to twist terribly within his stomach, because he'd understood his father's message perfectly. Victor Dane was on the move and would probably be coming after Severus. Staying in Britain was no longer an option. They had to put as much distance between themselves and Dane as possible in order to plan a way to stop him. As he left Azkaban and apparated back to Bracknell Forest, he hoped and prayed that Jean might be getting her memories back. It wouldn't do to go into hiding with an amnesiac witch and a comatose wizard on his hands.


	10. Chapter 10

* * *

It was in the early hours of a cold and misty October morning when Avril was awoken from her sleep by an owl tapping furiously at her window. The wind was blowing rather hard and the owl did not appear to be very happy that it had been made to fly in such conditions. She sat up and pulled on a robe over the t-shirt and underwear she was currently wearing. She was certain that her hair was probably all over the place and she unconsciously pushed it back before opening the window to let the angry little creature inside.

It launched itself into the room and kicked at its leg in an effort to try to get rid of the letter it was carrying. The tawny owl dropped it rather unceremoniously on the floor and was gone again. The cool night air gust into the room, bringing with it a slightly sweet smell indicative of a rather wild rainstorm coming and a slight chill that could be associated with the fact that fall had already arrived. It was the time of morning during which the sky had rid itself of its luminous companions, yet still retained its inky appearance.

Avril drew the window shut again and picked the letter up on the way back to the warmth of her bed. She sat down, not quite covering herself, before she opened the letter and read its contents:

_Ms. de La Fontaine,_

_I write to inform you that your niece, my godfather, and I require asylum in your lovely country and home. Danger is in the air, and I would be most displeased were we to be caught in such danger in these most precarious times. We will arrive tonight between the hours of 7pm and 8pm. If we do not, and you have heard no word from me, I ask that you immediately Floo the home of Potter-Weasley and inform them. I am aware that you do not know me, but I know your niece, and it would be extremely prudent for her to be with her family as it were. I will explain when I arrive, but please understand that, for safety reasons, I will not be able to divulge everything._

_Eternally grateful,_

_Draco Lucius Malfoy_

Her eyes widened as she reread the letter. Her niece would be coming and would be bringing guests, one of which was the head of the Malfoy house. During her upbringing, she'd learned that many centuries ago, the Malfoys had been a most prestigious magical family in France, however, they'd left the country and decided to make a name for themselves in Britain. There had been no record of any member of the Malfoy family in France for over three hundred years. There was no way she could go back to sleep now.

She was down the hall and the grand staircase to Elena's room in record time, knocking quickly and loud enough that the light sleeping older woman would hear her. It was a slightly disgruntled Elena that answered the door, however, when she noticed Avril's slightly frazzled state, she was markedly more awake.

"What is it?" she asked.

"We are going to be having guests for the foreseeable future. One of them is Jolie's daughter. They will be here tonight. Alert Camille immediately and tell her that she cannot go to America with Evan yet. Tell her to be here this evening. Tell her nothing else." Avril spoke rapidly, her French accent becoming more apparent as she did so.

Elena nodded and began to get dressed. "I will do so at once. Is there anything else you need?"

"Nothing yet. Make up the guest rooms and tell the cooks to make a big dinner, I don't care what. I will return in a few hours. There are some things I must take care of." Avril returned upstairs to the second floor of the house and to her office.

There were a stack of letters from other houses detailing any number of dinner parties, births, weddings, and funerals coming up, none of which she would be in attendance for. For the most part, house de La Fontaine was of the heard and not seen variety. Avril made sure that a good bit of their virtually endless finances went toward hospitals (Muggle and magical), schools, and charities, but she could not recall the last time a ball had been attended by or thrown by a member of her family, at least, not since her parents and Julia had died. Still, she paid no attention to the letters, opting instead to throw them in the fireplace so she wouldn't have to look at them a moment longer.

No, what she was really looking for was hidden in a space inside the desk. She felt around inside for it and pulled it out. It was her grandmother's spell book. Apparently, it had been passed down to her by her grandmother and had been in the family's possession for many centuries now. Avril consulted it now, hoping to find some sort of spell for protective wards inside. She had wards around the house already, as most magical homes did. She knew not what they were as they'd been around the house since before she and her sisters were born. Eventually, she found what she was looking for, though it felt like a prayer more than anything. As she read it, she felt warm inside and felt comforted. She supposed that that must be the intent of the spell: to protect and comfort.

Satisfied with what she found, she went out to the grounds to walk around the perimeter of the family home to say the spell:

_Protect this family from harm and danger_

_The earth declare it so_

_Remove all ailments and troubles_

_The earth declare it so_

_Give us love and light in such dark times_

_The earth declare it so_

She repeated this spell many times as she walked around the grounds and inside the house. Elena barely gave her a glance as she did so. The process took nearly three hours, and by the time she finished, the sun was up in the sky behind dark gray rain clouds. She felt vaguely tired as she returned the spell book to its original place. Elena informed her that Camille would be arriving later in the day and that the house was ready for its guests. Avril gave Elena the rest of the day off.

* * *

Draco informed Potter and Weasley about Snape needing to be moved. He hadn't been able to tell them everything about why he was having to be moved and they'd understood. Harry got two from his team of Aurors to assist Draco in moving Snape as well as volunteering to go along himself. And that was how they found themselves sneaking through the currently dark halls of St. Mungo's Obliviation and Memory Loss Ward. The nurses were luckily doing rounds so there was no one about in the halls. Finally, they came upon the room Severus Snape had been in for the last nine months.

He was comatose, as to be expected, with fading bite marks on his neck. His shiny black hair was now dull and lifeless, kept relatively short out of obligation more than anything. He was marvelously paler than Draco and Harry could ever remember him being. He was a tall towering figure, yet he appeared so small in that hospital bed.

While the two Aurors were outside keeping watch, Draco and Harry quietly disabled the machines keeping Severus Snape alive. Draco immediately place a stasis spell on him to keep him comatose at the very least. He would be able to get the machines running again when they were safely in Paris. He'd not received a reply from Avril de La Fontaine, yet he hoped that she would still allow them into their home.

"Draco, it might be best to apparate instead of using the Floo. If Snape's life is indeed in danger once more, the networks can be tracked." Harry said, breathing sound into the soundless hospital room.

Draco nodded as he disabled the last machine and lifted an alarmingly thin Severus Snape into his arms. "You're probably right. I will need you to bring Jean to the location I told you of. We will have to leave at the same time."

Harry nodded. "Ron packed her clothes for her. She's not quite awake yet, but he was able to explain to her that we were taking her to her aunt in France."

"Good. I haven't taken a day off since I started working, so at the very least, I have two weeks' worth of vacation days to use."

Moments later, a nurse came in to check on Severus Snape and ran back to the nurses station to inform the other nurses that he'd vanished.


	11. Chapter 11

Draco apparated onto the de La Fontaine estate at the exact time as Harry and Ron with Jean. Harry was holding a still unconscious Jean bridal style in his arms while Ron held a large bag with an extension charm inside. They hadn't landed far from the front door of the large chateau. Harry guessed that the estate was as large, or larger than, the Malfoy estate, not that he'd seen much of it when he'd been captured. In the dark, it was hard to make out the landscape, but the de La Fontaine house shone bright like a lighthouse.

The tan brick estate was large: three stories high and as wide as four Great Halls put together. Despite how large it was, it had an intimate feeling, and Draco, Harry, and Ron felt comforted immediately upon entering the property line. Soon they were at the front door. Draco was carefully levitating a still comatose Snape. Ron was holding Jean bridal style in his arms and Harry was currently holding two bags with extension charms in them: one for Jean and one for Snape. With his free hand, Draco knocked three times on the door.

Apprehension was practically tangible in the group. Draco had never received a reply from Avril de La Fontaine, and was honestly hoping that she would at least take mercy on them for one night. Lost in his thoughts, he hadn't noticed that the door had opened and a short, older woman was standing there, welcoming them in. Ron walked in first, adjusting Hermione in his arms. Draco followed, carefully levitating Snape through the wide doorway as Harry brought up the rear.

The group of them stood in the large, brightly lit entrance hall, as the short woman introduced herself. "Welcome to House de La Fontaine. I am Elena, the head maid here. I will go and fetch Lady Avril at once." She moved up the grand staircase faster than any of them thought possible and returned just as fast, stating that she would show them to their rooms and that Avril would greet them in the drawing room in two hours. If she was at all surprised to see an unconscious Jean and a comatose Snape, she never once showed it.

They travelled up to the second floor of the estate, the floor that was typically reserved for guests anyway. It was an astonishingly long hall that seemed to have fewer doors than Draco might have imagined. He assumed this meant the rooms were extremely spacious, and found that he was right in that assumption when they got to Snape's room. Harry and Ron agreed to stay in the room with Snape and get his machines set up as quickly as possible while Draco would attend to Jean.

"I never got to meet her, you know. When Jolie met Robert, we hardly ever saw her anymore. The only time we did was when she came to Julia's funeral. That was how we found out she was pregnant and married." Elena sounded vaguely sad and Draco felt something stir within him as he began learning about his love's family. Her mother and father were obliviated (by Jean's own doing) and one of her aunts was dead. He decided not to ask how that happened.

"I'm so sorry." It was all Draco could say at the moment, and a part of him wondered if he was saying that to Elena for the pain she felt for the de La Fontaine family or if he was saying it to Jean for the condition she was in.

The room he and Jean would be sharing was the size of the entry hall with the largest bed he'd ever seen against the center of the wall. There were two large windows on either side of the bed with thick gold curtains drawn shut in front of them. The hardwood floor was covered in so many rugs, it was easy to forget the floor was wood at all. Off to the right was a large bathroom that contained a spacious bathtub, a shower, toilet, and a long sink. The bright marble seemed to gleam dimly with the candles that had been lit inside. Draco smiled softly, knowing that if Jean was fully awake, she would love what she was seeing.

He placed her on the bed before going to run warm water in the tub. Jean had been sweating profusely since she'd passed out upon seeing him. She'd woken up only a few times, but never said anything coherent. He slowly undressed her down to her undergarments and did the same for himself before carrying her to the tub. He stepped in gingerly with her, thanking whatever divine entity there was that he hadn't dropped her. After a while he turned off the water and pulled her back against his chest so that her head was practically buried in his neck.

"I don't know if you can hear me, love, but we're in the tub. I still have on clothes on, and you do too. Sort of. I'm just going to wash you." Draco said softly, his voice seeming to echo in the room.

A few beats of silence passed as Draco set about towel washing Jean's body. He ignored the feelings it sent through his body to be doing such a thing, because he wished Jean was conscious to enjoy it. He'd moved on to washing her hair, reveling in the silence and tranquility of this one simple act, when he heard a strange noise. It took him a while to realize that it was Jean and she was speaking.

"Draco."

He nearly jumped a foot in the air before collecting himself so he wouldn't frighten her. "I'm here, Jean, I'm here. You're alright, I promise. You're just getting a bath." He sat a bit more upright, slightly pushing her forward and away from him so he could see her face.

Her eyes were open now, beautiful hazel eyes that pulled him in like black holes every time he looked into them. Despite her unconsciousness for the last day or so, she appeared extremely exhausted and tired.

"Where are we?" Her voice was throaty and scratchy, the way one would sound if you woke them in the middle of the night to ask them something, knowing they would roll over and fall back asleep any second.

"We're safe. We're in France. We're at your aunt's estate. You will get to meet her later tonight, if you are up to it." Draco replied, finishing her bath. By an act of God, he was able to get the two of them out of the bathtub and her onto the counter to dry her off.

He started with her hair and worked his way down, eventually finishing at her feet. He hadn't missed the way her breath hitched and her grip on the counter slightly tightened when he passed certain spots. He dried himself off and resumed carrying her again until he deposited her on the bed with her bag next to her.

"I'll go and get dressed in the bathroom while you get dressed here. The others will want to know you're awake now and you need to eat something." He refused to ask if she could remember anything. All he wanted right now was for his Jean to be comfortable enough to fall into a restful sleep, rather than the startling and fitful state of unrest she'd previously been in.

Walking back down the main hall on the second floor, Draco felt largely out of place in a white undershirt, track pants, and socks. The estate would've made his father's seem like a cottage in comparison. He was unsure where to go until he saw Harry walking toward him.

"How is she?" he asked.

"She's awake. I wanted to come and tell the two of you. She also needs to eat something."

Just then a loud pop sounded between the two of them, making them nearly jump back. Standing there was by far the nicest looking house elf either of them had ever laid eyes on. She wore an off white dress and small black shoes.

"Lady Avril informed me that there were guests as soon as I arrived back here. I apologize that I could not come sooner. I'm Blink." Her voice was slightly high in pitch and she stared at them expectantly.

Draco and Harry shared a surprised look, and Draco gestured to Harry to do the talking. "It's nice to meet you, Blink. I was wondering if we could have dinner tonight in Draco and Jean's room. Lady Avril is, of course, welcome to join us."

Blink nodded once and was gone. Harry looked back at Draco, a small smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. Draco rolled his eyes, trying his best to force away the smile also tugging at his face. It only deepened when a thought occurred to him and he gestured for Harry to follow him back to the room he and Jean were sharing.

"So," he started. "You and Weasley, huh?"

Harry let out the first long laugh he had in a long time and Draco joined him. He couldn't remember the last time he'd laughed. His stomach hurt after a few moments and his face began to hurt from all the smiling he was doing. He looked over and noticed the same was true for Harry.

"Yes," Harry replied after a while. "Yes. Me and Ron."

"Do you love him?" Draco asked, when a comfortable silence had passed between the two. They were nearly back to the room. He noticed that a serious look had passed across Harry's face now and Draco couldn't help but wonder if he'd been asked how he felt about Ron before.

"More than life itself." He seemed to be surprised by that answer and smiled slightly, lost in his own thoughts before repeating, "More than life itself."

* * *

"You've kept them waiting long enough, Av. We need to go and meet them! Elena will practically have our heads if we aren't there soon and Mama and Papa are probably cartwheeling in their graves right now!" Camille said, watching her sister.

"What if she doesn't like me?" Avril asked as she paced across the Oriental rug in the drawing room. Her dark hair was piled at the top of her head in a last minute bun. She was currently wearing the biggest sweater she owned, tight pajama pants, and bunny slippers. Camille thought she looked more childlike than she knew.

"Avril, she's family! Regardless of whether she likes us or not, we  _have_  to be there for her. At the very least, we owe it to Jolie. She doesn't even remember she  _has_  a child! Until we can figure out some way to get her and Robert's memories back, we must be here for Hermione. Or Jean. Or whatever she wants us to call her." Camille reminded Avril in that moment of Julia, and she felt herself bursting into tears.

Camille seemed to understand and pulled her sister down onto the couch with her, enveloping her the way Julia and their mother, Matilda used to. She let her cry and found that she was soon crying herself.

"It's not fair, Cam, it isn't! How are we the only ones left?" Avril was openly sobbing now and Camille pulled her tighter against her.

"I don't know, Av. I have no clue. But we have  _her_ , Avril. We have her and she's family. That's all that matters now."

A loud pop sounded in the room, though it was one both sisters were used to. They both wiped their eyes and looked toward a slightly impatient looking Blink. "Dinner will be in Draco and Jean's room. He has asked that you come so Jean can meet you. His two friends will also be in as well." She was gone again.

Camille and Avril stood and hugged again, the two of them both taking deep breaths. "Everything will be fine, Av. Everything will be fine."

* * *


End file.
